


Prompt List Six

by Upupanyway



Category: Daredevil (Comics), Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Developing Relationship, Drabbles, Fluff, Gen, M/M, aka my excuse to flesh out these characters in a way that i like, and like references to injury, and there's a bit with a stalker dude, as in unconnected episodic drabbles but in linear time, linear non narrative, prompts, rated t for a brief mention of a thong and shenanigans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-13
Updated: 2019-08-13
Packaged: 2020-08-20 09:54:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 30
Words: 11,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20225917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Upupanyway/pseuds/Upupanyway
Summary: Snapshots from the lives of one Matt Murdock and one Foggy Nelson.





	1. “None of that matters anymore."

**Author's Note:**

> it truly has been the summer of MattFoggy, y'all. I don't know if I'm sorry or not.
> 
> Each chapter is a [prompt from this list. ](https://cactiem.tumblr.com/post/186790344436/prompt-list-6) I get that it's not the intended use, but it's how I'm gonna use it because I'm an innovator.
> 
> This one goes out to Chip Zdarsky, who won't read this, but just know that I will never forgive you for making Mindy do that because she's married holy shit jesus christ (But i love all the stuff you're doing about sociology and criminology listen i have a degree in the field and it makes me excited to see lmao) (when will canon writers realize the power of mattfoggy endgame)

“Where’s Foggy?” Matt frowns, trying to focus his hazy senses to find his partner. Some sign of the intimately familiar. “I have to tell him something.” He has a lot to tell Foggy. Like about how he just remembered about the weird carrots he bought last week. And the moth that won't leave his apartment. And about how Foggy’s stupid and shouldn’t have chased after armed villains.

“He’s not here, buddy. I’ll tell you later,” Peter assures.

And a thought enters his brain. Something sad. “Did he make it out of the warehouse?” he asks, feeling small.

“Yeah, he did. But he’s busy right now.”

“Okay.” Matt passes out to the memory of Foggy in a hailstorm of bullets.

As he comes to, he hears a pleasant conversation happening between two very familiar voices.

“Oh, he’s awake!” exclaims a mass in the shape of Foggy. “Matt, how are you?”

“Nggghh,” he replies, trying to get up.

“Perfect.” Something heavy plops down on his lap and Matt studies it curiously, still failing to focus. He reaches for the object but is batted away with a disciplining hand. “What’s going on?” he tries to ask, though it comes out jumbled.

“Happy birthday, Matty! Sorry I almost forgot. We were dealing with a lot the other day.”

“You were being shot at and beat up, Fogs.” He clears through the haze and the events flood him. “Are you okay? Did you get hit by anything?” His panicked adrenaline spikes in his veins and he shuffles closer to the other man.

Foggy reaches over and steadies his shoulders so as not to topple the weight on his lap, which Matt now realizes is a small cake. Angelfood, his favourite.

“None of that matters anymore,” he chides. “Your birthday comes but once a year! We have to see it off properly. Petey, the candles!”

Matt cringes as the pair sing for him, off-key, off-beat, and heartwarming.


	2. “Wait this is your handwriting? I thought this was hieroglyphics.”

Matt pours over the paper on the desk. He runs his fingers over it once, twice, what feels like a million times trying to discern its meaning.

Foggy had left it on the kitchen table, so it’s gotta be important. Matt has a few hypotheses. Maybe it's a messy doodle that sighted people might be able to better understand. Maybe Foggy was just testing out some pens on low ink and forgot to recycle the paper. Maybe it's art. Whatever it is, it certainly can’t be words.

“Why are you reading my grocery list?” Foggy asks as he looks up from his sofa, the book in his lap lays limp with inattention.

“Wait, this is your handwriting? I thought this was hieroglyphics.”

“Har har. Very funny. It’s legible,” Foggy assures him.

“Yeah? Read it out to me.” Matt challenges. He walks over to hand Foggy the paper. He takes an emphatic seat next to his friend and waits.

Foggy takes the paper primly and shakes it with gusto before clearing his throat.

“Eggs, milk, cheese, flour and arugula.” Foggy reads confidently.

“No wait, that says oregano,” he corrects himself. He grumbles as he rips the paper in quarters.

“I rest my case.”


	3. “Not a day goes by that I don’t think of you.”

Foggy mumbles under his breath. Little curses aimed at Matt. Curses to alleviate the bruising and bleeding. Well, maybe not curses.

"Don't worry about it so much, Foggy. I'll be fine." Matt assures, batting away a worrisome hand. His cockiness dissolves into a small smile far too quickly, though. At the end of the day, it really is nice being looked after.

Foggy punches him lightly on the shoulder, directly on a bruise, and Matt startles a little in pain. 

"I'll stop worrying when you stop reacting like  _ that _ every time I touch you."

"I'm fine. Really. You don't have to burden yourself with me. I'll just lie down and meditate."

Foggy shakes his head and crowds Matt in his space. "Nope. Look, you can't come into my house looking like _that_ and decide to meditate the pain away. You're like a cat with his paw on the houseplant." Something dawns on Foggy, then. It must. "You like this attention don't you?" He accuses. 

Matt has the decency to try to look guilty, but not enough to feel it.

"Unbelievable," Foggy continues,shaking his head and reaching for the bandages. "It's all well and good that you don't think about your own health, but to drag me into it? That's unforgivable. Think about my blood pressure! Think about  _ me _ for once, I'm begging you!" And Foggy already has his gloves on and a bucket of clean water beside him, so he starts to prod at Matt's chest.

"Not a day goes by that I _don't_ think of you, Fogs," Matt smirks charmingly. And it's honest. More than he would care to admit most days.

"In a considerate light? Do you have passing thoughts like 'oh, maybe I shouldn't go up against these guys with _actual_ superpowers with two  _ sticks _ because poor old Foggy will have a field day if I died'?"

"I didn't know you cared so much." Matt sinks down further into Foggy's couch as the man bustles around him, checking his wounds. Matt's a selfish asshole, and he knows this. He basks, a little, when he lets himself. "And my superpowers are real"

"Real useless in a fight, you mean. Let me know if you develop, like, laser eyes or a healing factor. Taking care of you is like taking care of a self destructive toddler."

"You don't have to," Matt says in a tone that indicates he would vastly prefer it if Foggy does continue to care.

"But I will," Foggy insists as he helps Matt out of his shirt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NotToMeNotIfItsYou.jpg


	4. “Oh my god! You’re in love with her/him!”

They're not like this often. Most of the time, Matt refuses to let Foggy see him doing this sort of thing. It's too intimate, something precious that Foggy doesn't always understand, and that's okay. It's a part of Matt's life that Foggy knows exists, and Foggy's gracious enough about it without knowing the details. Matt knows Foggy isn't too thrilled about this side of him, but they take care of each other, and it works out. Their friendship works.

But sometimes, it's unavoidable, and Matt likes to think Foggy enjoys it when it does happen.

Foggy is a heavy warmth behind him, their limbs are tangled up together, and there’s an awed and excited beat to Foggy's heart. There’s also the occasional yelp when Matt does something a little too adventurous.

They're swinging to the rendezvous point to meet Blindspot because Foggy had a run in with Leap Frog again. Not one of their more elegant crime fighting evenings, but everyone is safe and Foggy got to eat his sandwich in relative peace after everything was sorted.

When they reach the designated roof, Blindspot is sitting on the ledge, swinging his feet.

"How was it?" Matt asks as he lands less than gracefully with the shaking body attached to him. He stumbles a little and they wind up in a heap together.

"East end all cleared. No one got hurt," the boy reports.

Foggy rolls off of Matt but they both stay down, breathing a little heavily from the exertion of travel.

"Good, good. Thanks, Blindspot," Matt pants as he shifts slowly to a sitting position.

"Can I start doing more of the high profile shit already? I'm ready. I've been training and I have a new suit-"

"You're not doing the dangerous stuff until I'm out of commission," Matt orders sternly. He knows what Sam gets up to between their meet ups. He hears it in the city, he smells it on Sam's suit whenever they talk. He knows Sam is more than capable, but he's still a kid and it would be irresponsible to advocate for it.

"Fine," the mentee concedes easily. He's not the obedient type anyway.

"Actually, can you escort Foggy back home? I'm pooped," Matt requests. Not very seriously, because Matt's already headed in that direction anyways and Sam is far more than an errand boy at this point.

"No, it's fine," Foggy says as he stands up on trembling legs. He leans against a wall and they eventually find purchase on the concrete roof. "It's only a few blocks. I'm going to listen to some NPR and process whatever all of that was."

"You sure? I could give you a lift," Matt offers.

"Yeah, I'm good. I just don't think I'll ever get used to seeing explosions that close up. See you tomorrow, Daredevil." Foggy makes his way to the access door and fumbles it open, fishing for his earbuds on the way.

Matt shrugs and lets him go, following his footsteps as long as he thinks he can get away with. He doesn't miss the fact that Foggy walks two blocks before he remembers to turn on the podcast.

"Staring wistfully at that lawyer guy?" Sam asks, jolting him from the reverie.

"No," Matt answers, far too quickly. Because no, he wasn't staring, not in the strictest sense.

"And you're going to meet him tomorrow?" Sam inquires knowingly.

"Of course." They run a law firm together. Because they're giving _that_ another shot. Prosecution was really getting to Matt. More importantly, being apart from Foggy was getting to him. And they always seem to circle back together at the end of the day.

"Oh my God, you're in love with him."

Matt tries to deny it, and it sounds halfhearted, even to him.


	5. “Please don’t give up on me.”

Foggy is terrible at knitting. Matt knows this by the rhythm of the clacking needles, the way the yarn pulls unevenly, the mumbled swearing when Foggy has to unravel his work to get back on track.

Matt, on the other hand, is on the final few rows of an intricate Afghan that they're going to gift to Brenna from the office. (Probably from the both of them. )They're headed to a baby shower next week.

"Foggy, you have to pay attention to what you're knitting. You have to  _ control _ the yarn, not fight it." Matt wants to laugh at him, but that's not polite. It's a little adorable that Foggy fumbles like this, especially given his precision and tact in the courtroom.

"I'm stuck. Can you help me out of this mess?" Foggy pouts. Of course, Matt sets his work aside and reaches for the knotted mess in his friend's lap. He follows it all the way around Foggy's fingers and up to his neck, because somehow Foggy had managed to knot it there, as well.

"How did this even happen?" Carefully, Matt lifts the entire project from the other man and crumples it up to Foggy's protest. There would be no salvaging this one. "You're hopeless."

"Wait, Matt!" Foggy pleads. "Please don't give up on me. I can finish a scarf by next week, probably."

"Fine." He acquiesces, but cautiously. "Give me a half hour to finish up this bad boy and I'll show you how to cast off again. Pay attention this time."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> they're really trying to get me to write angst lmao


	6. “Please listen to me.”

Foggy takes a deep breath, calming the rage from deep in his belly. His heart hammers on. "I can't believe that you, my best friend, would have such a wrong assessment of this whole situation."

"You can't deny what's in evidence, Fogwert! I have documents in favor of my case!" Matt cuts viciously, slamming his hand onto the dining table between them.

"THEN I CHALLENGE YOU TO PRESENT THEM, COUNSELOR!" Foggy demands.

Matt frowns and goes quiet. He stalks into his room for five whole minutes. When he returns, he's waving around some papers and setting them down harshly in front of Foggy.

"Is this not your handwriting, Franklin? Are these not papers that I found on this very table on the evening you were allegedly not here? The evening I came home to an open window and a pregnant raccoon in my kitchen? And are you not the sole possessor of my spare key, which I have expressly told you to use for emergencies and planned visits _only_?"

"Objection! Crowding the witness! Circumstantial evidence!" the accused cries, waving exasperated hands in the air.

"Overruled! Why were you _here_, Foggy?"

"I wasn't!"

"I have  _ evidence _ . This has to be you. It smells like you and it's illegible."

"Please, listen to me, Matty," Foggy breathes. "It wasn't me, it was Sam. I asked him for a favor.

"I told him I left something at your place. I needed a briefing for later that day, and I didn't have time to get it, but Sam happened to be around. He volunteered for the task. I wrote down what I needed- a file on your table. that's what's on the paper.

"I needed it quick, so I guess he used the vigilante entrance and left my instructions here, forgetting to close the window, but that's speculation. Either way, it was not my fault that you now have raccoon babies."

"Then why did I find them eating cheesecake? Sam doesn't doesn't even like cheesecake!"

Foggy balks and starts waving his hands in the air again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> reeeeaally trying to get me to write angst....


	7. “Please… I love you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there's a bit of a weirdo stalker guy  
also a hint of fake relationship trope

“Oh my God, that’s him,” Foggy hisses, going rigid in the queue.

“Who?” Matt asks, trying to get a scope for who he’s talking about. He feels the shift of a tallish man whose heart rate spikes as his face finds Foggy.

“The guy from yesterday. The one that hit on me. Five behind us.”

“The one who insinuated that he’d been following you for weeks?”

Foggy nods and holds onto Matt tighter. “Can you do something about him?”

“Like with my fists?” Matt fixes his stance. “Want me to beat up your stalker for you?”

“No, no. We’re in public. Just intimidate him or something.”

“What do you want me to do?” Matt asks, ready to do anything because Foggy’s heart rate is through the roof and Matt hates it when Foggy is scared.

“Anything. Please…” Foggy grabs Matt by the lapels desperately and there’s no time to dwell on any thoughts.

Matt lunges forward and plants one right on the corner of Foggy’s mouth, making sure the stalker is watching. He doesn’t deepen the kiss, but he moves his arms to further obscure their faces. He can feel people around them move away because PDA is always uncomfortable. Matt gets it.

It takes a little cooperation between the two of them, but Matt thinks they get the point across. The guy leaves, cursing under his breath, and they part. Just as Matt thinks to maybe apologize for groping Foggy’s ass a bit, the other man breathes out and melts with relief. 

“I love you,” he says seriously. He pats Matt on the shoulder, awkward but friendly. “I really owe you one.”

“Anytime,” Matt offers.


	8. “Please don’t leave me.”

Matt tries to be neighborly when he can, because it's the decent Catholic thing to do. So, he has no excuses to say no to babysitting for Grace and Tim Lum from down the hall. Especially when they get an unexpected cancellation from their usual sitter and the pair really need to make this meeting. So he doesn't say no.

Except, he's not that great with kids. Sure, he can handle a few of them at a time in short intervals, and he can even be quite entertaining and charismatic when he wants to be. But one on one? With Matt out of his Daredevil suit? When a kid demands full, undivided attention and has free reign to pick apart his insecurities like a systematic machine? It can get uncomfortable.

It takes precisely 30 minutes of "Why are you blind?", "Doesn't being a lawyer get boring?", "Why aren't you married?", "If the sky isn't really blue, can it be green on other planets?" before he calls Foggy in. The Lums would be out for five more hours and Matt, the introvert that he is, cannot keep up with a whole child.

Foggy, however, is great with children. They take to him naturally and they ramble at each other about nothing. Matt lets himself relax into the sofa amidst the chatter in the kitchen. He can do children if Foggy's doing it with him.

"Matty, you have no food in here. A growing boy needs more than expired sprouts and tofu, you know." Foggy carefully sits the five year old down on Matt's lap and puts on his jacket. "I'm going to get some groceries. I'll be back in 20."

"Can I come?" Kieran begs at the same time Matt chokes out, "Please don't leave me."

In turn, Foggy just laughs. "You guys are a riot. Both of you, be good 'til I get back." He leaves to the tune of rustling keys and squeaky leather shoes.

"Why's your nose so big?" The child inquires, though not to be mean.

"The better to smell you with," Matt answers vaguely.

Kieran, bless his heart, laughs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> babysitting!


	9. “Promise me you’ll take care of her/him.”

It's not a big deal. Matt knows this. Many people have houseplants. But not many people are as attached to their houseplants as Foggy is.

Foggy is also notoriously terrible at keeping houseplants.

He's down to his last aloe vera plant when he has to start getting ready for a family reunion.

"Promise me you'll take care of her," Foggy whispers, delicately caressing the pot. Matt can already tell she's overwatered.

"I promise." Matt draws a little cross on his chest and makes his way over to the plant. She's really not doing well. "Do you have any care instructions for her?"

"What's that?"

"Like instructions for caring? Amount of optimal sunlight, moisture, humidity, temperature, that sort of thing."

Foggy gapes for a painful second. "What?"

"You can't take care of all plants the same way," Matt says, slowly. His heart sinks at the fact that this is new information.

The silence between them is cutting.

"We can sort it out once you get back. As for now, just know that I will keep Alana alive until then. Also maybe stop naming your plants so you don't get as sad when they die."

"If they die," Foggy corrects, weakly.

"I said what I said."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Foggy's so cute


	10. “Promise me you’ll take better care of yourself.”

"Are we still doing this?" Matt demands as he storms into Foggy's office. He's made of rage.

"I'm fine!" Foggy insists with a wet sniffle.

"Then you're in denial. Go home and get some rest!" Matt shouts. He sticks his nose into Foggy's space and gives him a good whiff. "And shower. You smell like death," he spits.

"I'm not sick! That's impossible. I'm never sick. And even if I were sick, which I'm not, we still have piles of work to sort through. It won't get done on time unless I'm here."

"We have  _ paralegals _ now, Foggy. More than capable ones. We'll be fine without you for a day."

They consider each other for a mean moment, which ends when Foggy sneezes all over Matt's face.

"Damn, sorry," Foggy apologizes when Matt doesn't even bless him, which means Matt is genuinely upset about this. Matt wipes his face with the kerchief in this breast pocket.

"Get. Some. Rest. You're going to get this whole office sick."

Foggy falters for a second and sways to a standing position. "Fine. But I'll be here early tomorrow."

"Whatever suits you. As long as you leave right now."

As Foggy gathers his things, Matt traces a hand over the work Foggy had out in front of him. He had been reading it upside down.

"Hey, Foggy?" Matt says, more tender than before.

"Yes, Matt?"

"Promise me you'll take better care of yourself."

Foggy snorts derisively but chokes on his own mucus. "You, too."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> they.. care so much... they're also... so angery


	11. “You can sing?”

Matt is very familiar with Foggy's love of show tunes. Frank Sinatra, Fred Astaire, Florence Ballard. Others whose names do not start with F. He has heard Foggy's wailing attempt at singing before. It seems like he can never seem to pick a pitch to stick to, or quite find the beat under the tune or what have you. Matt's always prepared to brace himself to Foggy's singing when he feels it coming on. Sometimes he even almost lets himself enjoy it.

Matt, on the other hand, does not sing. Chooses not to. Has an aversion to it like a cat to water. But as he's entering Foggy's apartment that evening, he catches a song he's actually familiar with. He catches himself humming along to Foggy's butchered duet. As he's opening the sliding glass and stepping inside, the song's nearly ending and Foggy's making his way out of the bathroom.

"Love me, that's all I ask of you. Anywhere you go, let me go, too," they sing in unison. Matt takes the harmony, letting Foggy try for that high note (which Matt physically cringes at). Foggy freezes in his towel when he sees Matt rummaging through his fridge.

"Love me, that's all I ask of -" and Matt continues to sing. When he notices Foggy watching, he stops in his tracks, too.

Caught red-handed with Foggy's snacks halfway to his masked face.

"Um," Matt starts. "You weren't supposed to notice-"

"You can sing?!"

"Everyone can sing," Matt shrugs.

"But that was gorgeous! Do it again." Foggy drops his towel in his excitement and crowds Matt at the fridge.

“Can I say no?”

“No. That voice is borderline angelic. I’m going to force you to serenade me every morning.”

It’s definitely not going to happen, but Matt likes the notion that Foggy likes his voice. It warms him.

“Put on some pants and I might consider it.” And just like that, they’re back to banter. Matt closes the fridge door behind him and follows Foggy to the couch.

“Stop stealing my yogurt and we have a deal.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <s>don't judge me i like it when foggy's naked</s>


	12. “Teach me how to play?”

Foggy plays a little guitar from time to time. His instrument is an old acoustic, bought secondhand in his early teens. Usually, it's displayed on a stand by his balcony next to a similarly worn and well-loved electric keyboard.

Matt can sing a little, but never had the means or motivation to truly become a musician.

But sometimes, when he's listening to Foggy play, he gets curious about what it would feel like. The vibration of the strings on his fingertips, the weight of singing wood on his lap. His curiosity grows as they sit, Foggy sprawled out on the couch, absently strumming and humming to an unfamiliar tune and Matt, failing to pay attention to an article in the legal journal he's supposed to be reading.

He takes out an earbud. "What song is that?" Matt asks.

"Oh?" Foggy asks as if he's just now realizing Matt is here. "You wouldn't know it. It's something I composed when I was a kid. Did you know I was in a band?"

Matt didn't know. He took a moment to imagine the grungy ripped jeans and a group of Foggy's friends scattered around a garage. "Were you really?"

"Yup. We were Bumblebee and Queenie. My friend Barbara was Bumblebee, the lead vocalist. The rest of us were Queenie."

"Why?" Matt continued to prod.

"Well, Babs always had the name Bumblebee. You'd know if you met her. And the rest of us, well, we were all bullied because we were all sorta gay. You know. Queen-y," Foggy shrugs and plays another chord.

"What kind of music did you guys do?" Matt's full attention is on Foggy now. He loves to piece together his best friend's history.

Foggy gives out a single nostalgic laugh. "That's the thing. We couldn't even come up with a coherent genre! We were all great friends but with wildly different vibes. Joanna, our drummer, was a hardcore goth. Yoshi, our bassist, was a techie. Harvey did backup vocals and keyboard sometimes. He was a huge jock. Brett also did brass for us occasionally. Bumblebee was downright ethereal, like an angel incarnate. Always wore white and sandals. A little Jesus-y."

"Oh? Sounds like you remember them fondly."

"Yeah, we were also all dating. Like a big circle of us just hooking up nearly constantly in a lot of configurations. High school was weird."

Matt sits back to wrap his mind around it. "Am I to understand that you were part of a genre-bending-queer-polycule-slash-band in the 90s?" Matt considers what he was doing at the time. Probably stealing furtive kisses behind nuns’ backs.

"Pretty much. It didn't actually seem that weird at the time," Foggy shrugs and continues to strum. "We just did what felt right."

Matt nods, still not quite being able to picture it. "So what song is that?"

"It's called, 'Stark against the Moonlight.'" Foggy says and he plays a few bars without singing. Then, clearing his throat a little, he does.

_ "Your face is hallowed in the softness of the night _

_ The space between our bodies, just as fair, alight _

_ When the morning rises our demises, does it compare _

_ To your steady shadow on my walls, so stark against the moonlight? _ " 

Foggy ends it with a bit of a riff and trails off into some other half formed cacophony. His voice is clumsy and raspy, but nothing like the other times Matt has heard him sing. His voice isn't enchanting by any means, but it has a certain quality to it that Matt wants to drown in, anyway. Foggy speaks in a different tone. Bashful. "Something like that. It's so teenagery. And it’s a lot better if you imagine it with the bassline and minor harmonies. Anyways, I wrote when I was fifteen, so be nice."

"I liked it," confesses Matt. "You should play more."

Foggy waves it off. "It was a long time ago. I can't even be considered good at guitar anymore."

"I think you're great," Matt admits. "Maybe you could teach me how to play sometime? We could start a band. I can sing, if you want.”

“We can make another genre bending queer polycule."

“Something like that, maybe,” Matt agrees.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i will write and rewrite foggy's childhood backstory as much as i want and you can't stop me  
i wrote like, a poem for this and died bc idk how music works lmao


	13. “Are you okay?” “Why do you ask?” “Because you’re wearing two different shoes.”

Matt has a lot of bad nights. It comes with the territory. He's used to it.

Well, maybe he's not quite so used to having this many in a row, but he's used to it. A little. Or he can get used to it.

"Are you okay, buddy?" Foggy asks him, out of the blue on a Thursday morning. They're in the office and Matt had been frowning at his cup of coffee in the kitchenette for who knows how long.

The answer comes a little delayed because Matt needs time to process the question. "Why do you ask?" He tries to smile, but the muscles in his face don't cooperate. But he's fine.

"Because you're wearing two different shoes," Foggy points out.

And yeah, Matt feels it. On the right he's wearing his usual loafer. On the left is a distinct boot that he only wears with one outfit, ever. Matt frowns at the thought of himself clashing.

"So I am, so I am," he nods. He takes a sip of coffee. It might burn his tongue.

"Wanna go home and take a nap?" His partner suggests, words slow.

"No, no, I'm fine," Matt denies. But a nap sounds great. No, it wouldn't even be a nap because he hasn't slept last night.

"Okay, sure." Foggy agrees easily, which is unlike him. He walks Matt to his office, telling him about the news and weather. For some reason his office is a cab ride away.

Vaguely, Matt registers himself lying down in his bed, the shuffle of his shoes being taken off for him. The all-too-familiar sound of Foggy sighing.

When he wakes up, hours later, he does feel a lot better.


	14. “Want to talk about it?"

Foggy has been silently brooding all morning. It's distracting.

So, eventually, sometime before lunch, Matt finds the courage to knock on his office door and ask, "Want to talk about it?"

Of course, Foggy says no and assures Matt that it's nothing. Foggy proceeds to bury himself in his work for the rest of the day.

And, like many Friday nights, they head to the bar because like many weeks, it had been a long one. Foggy continues to brood even through the first plate of nachos and the first few drafts of beer. Matt doesn't say anything, but he does let Foggy's fuse get shorter.

"Okay!" Foggy exclaims, exasperated by the non communication between them. "I'll say it. I went on that date last night!"

"And it didn't go well?" Matt extrapolates.

"She was perfectly pleasant, but no, it didn't go well."

"Then it's on her, Foggy. You're a treat." Matt keeps eating nachos. They hit the spot. Salty, sour, and spicy. He doesn't like the idea of Foggy having a bad time.

"She brought up some valid points, actually. I've just been coming to terms with myself."

"No, Foggy, you're better than that," Matt tells him seriously, grabbing a hand. "Don't feel like you have to change for anyone."

Foggy sighs. "No, I mean, she said things like, I probably use my humor as a way to cope with unaddressed tragedies in my life. And that I have an unhealthy relationship with my body. And that I'm too codependent. Especially with you. And she may have implied that I'm ugly."

Matt frowns at her further because he and Foggy spend just the right amount of time together,  _ thank you very much _ . And Matt can't be sure for obvious reasons, but he's also quite sure that Foggy has a pleasant enough countenance. "Don't date pseudo-psychologists," he concludes for Foggy. "Especially mean ones who can't appreciate how perfect you are."

Spitefully, Matt resolves to spend even more time with Foggy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me and matt murdock, the foggy nelson fanclub: he's perfect.


	15. “I just really miss talking with you.”

As soon as Matt settles down into the mattress of his hotel in San Francisco, he picks up his phone.

"Matt? What's up?" Foggy greets, tinny on the other end, the distance of an entire country between them. Matt decides business trips are really not worth it. Even if he's going to get to talk to King T'Challa at this event, Matt's a bit of a fanboy.

"Just letting you know I got in safe and everything."

"Oh, good." Matt barely makes out the sizzling pan through the audio quality. Foggy's cooking dinner.

"What are you making?" He should unpack, but he'd rather not.

"I'm just trying out a curry recipe the Kapoors gave me. Hopefully, I don't set anything on fire."

"Are you using ginger?"

"Of course." He can practically hear Foggy rolling his eyes.

"Use more than you think you need."

"Al _ right _ , chef. I'll get right on that. Is there anything else you wanted to call about? You want to critique my knife skills through the phone, too?"

"No," Matt says honestly. "I just really miss talking with you.”

There's a silence on the other line for a long while. "God, you're such a cheese. We're not going to be that couple, Matt."

Matt smiles because he recognizes the tone. "Are you smiling right now?"

Another silence. A defeat. "Yeah, I'm smiling. But we can't be these people. I saw you six hours ago. I'll be picking you up in four days. We can't be this sickening. We’ll need to limit ourselves. I propose two calls a day."

"How many texts?"

"Unlimited."

"I can work with that," Matt says approvingly.

"Alright, I'm gonna go finish cooking," Foggy states and Matt hears a rustling as Foggy tries to end the call.

"Wait!" Matt calls out. "Want to eat dinner together? I'll call up room service right now."

"It's, like, 3pm over there, Matt."

"A late afternoon snack, then. Just don't hang up yet. I have to tell you about my day."

"I saw you six hours ago. What could possibly have happened?" Foggy chuckles.

"Just let me listen to your voice, Foggy,” he requests.

“Alright.”

Foggy's laugh is bright and clear. Matt feels it, even through the terrible audio quality.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> did you notice i skipped the part where they get together? i'm a subversive mastermind


	16. “Things don’t always turn out the way we want them to.”

One of the main caveats to dating a superhero is that adaptability becomes a nonnegotiable skill.

Sometimes, the day is normal, and your partner gives you a text before coming over. Other days, you find him on your balcony in his tights listening to the rain like a wet and homeless dog.

“Hey, you can come inside, if you want,” Foggy tells him, opening the sliding glass with a warm cup of cocoa in hand.

Matt takes it and follows Foggy in. He sits down on the couch like he had a million times before, but he feels bigger, ganglier on it. And Foggy, sweet and delicate Foggy, helps him out of his suit.

“What happened?” he asks, tracing the new smattering of injuries.

Matt forces himself to speak. His voice is scratchy and violent as it exits his throat. “I couldn’t save them. There were kids.”

Foggy gathers him up in his arms. “Hey, things don’t always turn out the way we want them to, how they ought to be. We know that. You can’t save them all.”

“I can still hear them. If I was just a little faster-”

“Hey, stop. You can’t shoulder everything like this. You can’t possibly do everything-”

“Foggy,” Matt says sharply. “Stop saying I can’t do things.” It comes off aggressive and Matt doesn't have the energy for the violence anymore. He can’t keep starting fights like this. “Please. Not tonight.” 

Foggy stops. “Okay, Matty,” he nods, understanding. He adapts to Matt like a blessing. “What I mean to say is it’s not your fault. Whatever happened to them. People die. It’s a reality we all have to contend with. I can’t imagine what it’s like for you, but you’re doing the best you can. You’ve already saved countless lives. You’ve saved this city the world over. For all it’s worth, I think you’re still a great hero and you still do a lot of good. Focus on that.”

“Thanks, Foggy," Matt lets himself ease a little. "Can we stay like this for a bit?” Matt settles into the other man even more, melting at the edges.

Eventually, Foggy starts talking again. “And hey, we can offer as much assistance as we can to the families affected, right? The follow-up is just as important.” Foggy points out. "It's not over yet. We can still help them." He buries a kiss to Matt’s hair and they stay like that for a while. Matt lets himself consider it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i guess i did end up writing some angst


	17. “This isn’t just about you. It’s about what’s best for all of us.”

Matt is a self sacrificial bastard at the best of times. Foggy tends to have more sense, but at the end of the day, Foggy also cares too intensely. Cares like a tidal wave, an unstoppable force. When he lets his brain shut off, Foggy might even have less preservation instinct than Matt.

“You can’t go back in there!” Matt begs, physically restraining Foggy. The building had caught on fire, likely some mishap in a kitchen on the second floor, if witnesses are to be believed. They’re in their civilian clothes and Matt’s helpless to go inside without losing the entire city's trust. They'll have to trust the fire department, but they’re already considering the building a lost cause.

“There're still three people in there! Someone has to go!” Foggy struggles out of his grip, but Matt catches his hand.

“I can’t lose you, Foggy. Please. Stay here, where it’s safe.”

Foggy twists his hand free. “This isn’t just about you. It’s about what’s best for all of us. The whole city. I don’t want to have to explain why three people died because the fire department refused to investigate a blind man’s tip.”

Matt doesn’t let him go so much as fail to keep him safe. Foggy rushes in despite the protests of everyone around him. He douses himself in the running hosewater and Matt tracks his racing heart all the way inside the building. Matt prays for his deliverance.

Matt finally breathes out when Foggy gets out. He’s carrying a child at his hip, escorting her parents out with good advice and frantic gestures. He shields them with his body. He sticks by them tightly. Like an idiot.

The three make it to the ambulance intact and Foggy makes it back to Matt.

“That was colossally stupid of you,” Matt scolds, running his hands all over Foggy. “Your skin is burnt to shit.”

Foggy laughs and hugs Matt in relief. “You’ve done dumber.” He topples them both over, and then they’re a pair of idiots rolling around on the concrete while other people watch on. They’re laughing together, but they’re also crying. “God, that’s the most cardio I’ve gotten in forever.” Foggy sits up to hack up a lung and spit his ashen spittle onto the ground.

“You’re disgusting. Let’s get you to an ambulance.”

Matt supports them both as Foggy limps his way over. “Matty, would you hate me if I told you I singed my eyebrows off? I’m pretty sure it looks real funky.”

Moments like these leave Matt awestruck. “God, you're so stupid.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> noble bastards, the lot of them.


	18. “You made me what?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> slight, slight nsfw ahead. foggy wears a thong.

Party nights are fun. Matt and Foggy have a great circle of adult friends who have adult fun together. Boggle. Giant Jenga. Twister, if they’re feeling a little adventurous. Always with lots and lots of high quality booze. It's Kirsten’s birthday, and she likes to throw extravagant get-togethers in her spacious house with actual decor and giveaways because her father always insists on giving her money.

And Matt and Kirsten have been doing a lot better since he started dating Foggy. So naturally, the pair keep slinking off to discuss devious ways to embarrass Foggy when he’s pliable. Foggy, for all it's worth, really is the life of the party and he loves nothing more than letting loose in small doses throughout the year.

Kirsten kisses his cheek in a friendly way and Foggy soliloquizes for ten whole minutes about his virtue and loyalty to Matt and it gets the crowd awwing and oohing.

Matt gets him on the dance floor (which was actually just two couples swaying gently together in the living room) while Kirsten changes the track to some EDM and people really join in after that.

They let Foggy raid Kirsten’s closet and he comes out with extravagant hair accessories, some lipstick and a pair of heels that don’t fit him at all. The crowd claps for him as he makes his coquettish way down the stairs like a debutante.

Matt gets a little frisky on the couch and Foggy tells him how much he loves him for forty-five minutes and drunkenly proposes at the end while Kirsten records. That one isn’t really for the party, but the evidence is forever on Kirsten's phone, if she ever needs material for their wedding.

The morning afters are a little less fun as both of them are contending with age now that they aren’t in college anymore.

“Matt,” Foggy groans as he wakes up in Matt’s bed. “What happened last night?”

“Nothing that unusual, go back to sleep.”

“No, tell me. I feel like I got up to a lot. Am I wearing lipstick?”

“We made you try on some of Kirsten’s stuff. Apparently, red looks great on your complexion.”

“You made me what?” Foggy asks, shooting up. “Is that why I’m wearing a thong?”

And that catches Matt’s attention. “You’re wearing a thong?”

“Yeah, and it’s not made for people with external equipment at all.” Foggy shuffles a little. “It’s also  _ really  _ tight.”

“I can help you out of it, if you want,” Matt offers generously.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> friendly reminder that foggy was a frat boy <s>and is also really sexy</s>


	19. "Time's up!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a day in the life

The villain du jour is a serious rip-off of the Riddler. Matt remembers reading the Batman comics as a kid, and the Riddler wasn’t even the most compelling villain. Matt refuses to even learn this guy’s name. The more pressing issue is that he has Foggy trapped in a cage, suspended by a helicopter, dangling precariously like a pendulum over the city. The Not-Riddler even plays the  _ Jeopardy _ music as he questions Matt, and the hero is losing his patience quick.

“Okay, next question, Daredevil. If you’re going to-”

_ Thwack _ .

The billy club hits him square in the face and the villain falls to the ground.

“Time’s up!” Matt quips as he hurls himself off the roof and flings half his weapon towards the swinging cage. He climbs the rope and stumbles onto the airborne platform. When his hands find purchase on the bars of the cage, he lets himself have a breather.

“Hey, buddy,” Foggy greets, legs crossed and heart racing.

“Hey, Fogs. Just going to warn you right now, I don’t know how to drive a helicopter.” Matt smirks as he scrambles further upwards. He hears Foggy curse with the wind.

Foggy lands on a roof unscathed, which is more than can be said about the helicopter or the pilot because the former has a dented rotor and missing tail and the latter is passed out in the back of the cockpit.

“Are you okay?” Matt calls out, rushing out of the ruined vehicle, a ring of keys in hand. He tosses them to Foggy when he’s close enough.

“Yeah. For the most part. I’m going to tell my therapist about this later, though.” Foggy considers the plethora in his hand for a moment and jams a key between the bar and the lock. When it’s secure, Foggy kicks at it until it breaks open.

“Well, we still have that reservation for 7, if you still want to go,” Matt reminds him, holding out his hand to help Foggy out of the rubble.

“And miss Anton’s fried pasta? The waiting list is a mile long. It’s only 6:45. We can make it if you take us.”

They make it to the reservation only six minutes late. Foggy, disheveled and windswept. Matt, in his red boots and with his shirt untucked. His white cane is only lightly dented. 


	20. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

The date doesn’t start off well. A lot worse, actually, compared to all their other ones. Not because of the company. No, it’s because Matt can tell he doesn’t have Foggy’s attention. They sip their wine in silence for some long moments, the tension swelling like an untreated wound.

“There’s something I need to tell you,” Foggy starts, finally.

Matt braces himself. He had known, when this all started, that it was too good to last. Not everyone wants the kind of life dating Daredevil would entail. No hard feelings, Matt can make sure they part ways as best friends. Matt will make the effort. “Go on," he says, already resigned.

“I love you. Like, in earnest," Foggy says, surprising Matt into choking on his wine. "We’ve been doing this thing for a while now, and I realized we haven’t properly said it since. So yeah, there it is, out in the open. You don’t have to say it back or anything, but I wanted to let you know.”

Matt is stupefied, like he often is in Foggy’s presence. The petrified joy leaks into pure euphoria as the words really hit him. Foggy  _ loves _ him.

“Foggy, I love you, too. Very much in earnest as well.” It might actually be the best date yet. Everything is perfect. Foggy is perfect. “Wow, I can’t believe you made me worry about nothing. I thought you were going to give me bad news.”

They smile at each other as the air gets lighter in the space. Then, Foggy coughs for attention. “Alright, now that that’s out of the way, I also wanted to let you know I want kids,” the man rolls on, relief coloring his voice.

Matt smirks into his salad. He could do that. He's very open to that.


	21. “Are you sure you two aren’t married?”

Sometimes they entertain guests at home. They have to be very selective because Matt has a tendency to get lazy putting his  _ gear _ away, so the list of people who won’t figure things out or assume that the pair have a far more interesting sex life than they actually do is quite small.

The Defenders sit around their living room, awkwardly fiddling because it’s a rare occurrence to be invited back to Daredevil’s for social reasons.

And he still has his mask on, because apparently  _ that’s _ just too intimate.

“Okay,  _ Daredevil _ , I’m sure you can shown them your face. They've seen our linens, buddy. I'm pretty sure they're at least at that point.”

“It’s about the principle, Foggy,” the Daredevil explains. He’s wearing a long sleeve shirt and jeans, besides the horns. It’s a bold look, to be sure.

“I’m sure they can figure it out. I’m their lawyer.”

“Yes!” Danny Rand pipes up. “I’m almost certain you’re Matthe-”

“Hey, Foggy, can you be a dear and fetch the tea?” Daredevil interrupts coyly.

“No one even drinks tea here, Daredevil,” Jessica complains. “Bring us the hard stuff, sugarcakes,” she tells Foggy. He gives her a little thumbs up and spikes her tea before bringing the platter to the coffee table.

“Don’t flirt with Foggy,” Daredevil warns. He takes his cup and takes a sip. He also pats Foggy’s thigh in gratitude in an egregious display.

“Oh my God,” Jessica deadpans.

Luke Cage crosses his arms and leans in closer to inspect the hidden face which smirks at him. “Man, this is getting a little ridiculous. We’ve worked with you for years!”

“And I invited you into my home! Look at us, hanging out outside of work! We're like actual friends at this point!”

“You’re so weird,” Luke says. “Just give us a name, at least.”

“Daredevil,” Matt replies primly, without missing a beat.

“Alright, buddy, I think they get it by this point,” Foggy pats him affectionately on the cheek and moves to take the mask off for him. Immediately, Matt takes the hand and yanks it away, pulling Foggy in for a kiss while he’s at it.

The Defenders watch this exchange with varying levels of disgust.

“Are you an exhibitionist? What’s going  _ on _ here? Are we just supposed to watch you make out with your husband all night?” Jessica asks.

“I’m not married,” Daredevil answers, kissing Foggy’s hand.

“Oh, I see. You’re trying to gross us out so we leave of our own volition,” Luke accuses with a thick finger in their direction. “That way, it’s not your fault that we didn’t see your face today.”

Matt smirks and brings a blushing Foggy onto his lap to place a warm hand on his thigh. Casual. Challenging.

“Stop being gross, dude,” begs Jessica.

“I think it’s sweet,” Danny comments pointedly. Matt turns to face him, frowning. He keeps his head in Danny's direction as he inches his hand higher up. Neither of them break, but Foggy does.

“Matt, stop weaponizing our relationship! You’re literally two inches away from touching my dick in front of your very nice work buddies. It's not worth it!” Then, like a deer in headlights, he freezes, realizing what he’d just said. They all stare at him.

“Aw, Foggy. You ruined the build up.” Matt finally takes his mask off in defeat and the gaze in the room shifts a few inches to the left. Almost imperceptible, even to Matt’s senses. Almost.

“ _ Thank _ you, Nelson,” Luke rejoices. He uncrosses his arms emphatically at the man still sitting on Matt’s lap. “You can take a proper seat now.”

Foggy shrugs mischievously. “I don’t know, it’s kind of comfortable here.”

“Not you, too. You guys are disgusting,” the towering, bulletproof man sinks into his seat in defeat.

“Are you sure you two aren’t married? Only married people can be this insufferable,” Jessica argues. Matt kisses Foggy’s neck to make a point.

Danny stands up. “Okay, man, we get it. We’ll leave. Are we still on for movie night next Thursday?”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world, Danny boy. Now that you guys know, can we do video description?”

“Sure," Danny cedes. "Just don’t bring Foggy. I’m a little scared of what you guys will get up to in the dark.”

"That's fair."

They file out pretty quickly after that whirlwind of a social interaction. No one enjoyed it. Maybe Matt did, but he's a weirdo.

Just as the door closes, Foggy comes to a realization. “Am I to understand that you’ve been doing movie nights in a mask this entire time?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the defenders are like the dumbest team and i love them


	22. “Well... don’t keep me waiting.”

Matt is stuck in a freezer. Not like, "crime fighting" stuck in a freezer. Regular old "was a dumbass" stuck in a freezer.

Now, Matt isn't the biggest fan of flowers. Hasn't been since his nose started picking up pollen like a vacuum. But Foggy loves them, and no matter how many times Foggy says he can do without since they already have non-flowering houseplants, Matt likes to let him indulge on occasion. And today is their anniversary, so it seemed a very fitting ocassion this morning.

See, they have these friends, Tammy and Ann. They own a flower shop together just past Brooklyn, and it's very quaint. They pour their hearts into it. Matt had the brilliant idea to pop in for a little bouquet. So while Tammy was out doing deliveries, Ann showed Matt their stock in the freezer.

But then, because this is New York, a robber came in and Ann had to deal with the aftermath all by herself because Matt couldn't get to the other side of the shelving unit before the door shut on him. Matt can hear her a few alleys over, beating up the guy who had taken the purse that she had left behind the front desk. Vaguely, Matt is glad that she had been taking krav maga.

Except, apparently, someone called in about a commotion and the police are getting to the scene and Matt's still in the freezer, which needs an access card to open.

So he does the logical thing. "Hey, Foggy! I'm stuck in a freezer," he says casually, teeth chattering.

"What?!" The man answers on the other line.

"Come to Tam and Ann's. Actually, can you sort out the mess on Atkins from here? Ann got mixed up in a robbery and came out on top, but if she's going into questioning I might be stuck here for a while."

"Will do, Matty. I'm just in a meeting with Jim. We're almost finished."

"Well," Matt says dejectedly, curling in on himself near the peonies to preserve body heat. He won't die, but it'll get increasingly more uncomfortable as the minutes tick on. "Don't keep me waiting."

It takes another hour and a half to rectify the situation and Ann apologizes profusely. She gives them a free bouquet, though, and Foggy beams about it. So even though Matt's hands don't thaw until he gets home, he's not too bothered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fun fact: my parents used to have a flower shop and my aunt and uncle do now


	23. “Please look at me.”

The thing about being a vigilante is that you can't look good all the time. Sometimes, you have to get a little weird being undercover. The current villain seems to be targeting homeless people, so Matt stopped shaving and is now wearing his least washed clothes.

"How do I look?" Matt asks.

Foggy considers him for a moment. "Have you seen a homeless person recently?"

"No."

"Okay, well, it feels a little exaggerated. Like you're playing homeless instead of being it, and frankly, I think it's a little classist."

"I've been below the poverty line for more than half my life, Foggy. I know how to work dirty sneakers and dollar store baseball caps," Matt scoffs.

"Okay, but there's a quality to this like you're faking it."

So Matt transforms. He takes on a posture. A posture he remembers from when he was a kid. It's something almost instinctual, and it reads like he's asking to be seen and ignored all at the same time.

"How's this?" Matt asks, making himself small and weary.

"Okay, yeah, maybe that could work. What did you just do?"

Matt shrugs. "I just sort of pretend like I'm invisible. I don't want people to see me because people will harass me. At the same time, I'm telling the world, 'please look at me,' because there's a setting sense of despair every day that goes by where I have to beg for McDonald's coupons."

"How do you figure that?"

"I'm a poor, blind kid from the city, Foggy. It'd be weirder if I wasn't hanging out with homeless people between all the actual kids I wasn't hanging out with."

Foggy seems to internalize this. Something he doesn't really understand. "Do you think it'll work? The whole set up?"

Matt gestures at his cane. "When I'm holding this baby, people literally swerve to avoid me. I'm sure if I sit on the sidewalk for a few hours, our guy will try to pick me up."

"Good luck, Matt," Foggy says by way of send off. "We should talk more about your childhood though. Maybe get you some therapy."

"We'll talk about it when we start funding more homeless shelters, Fogs," Matt retorts as he heads out the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh? some real world good doing? anyway, here are some resources if you wanna look into food banks.  
[(USA)](https://www.feedingamerica.org/)  
[(Canada)](https://www.foodbankscanada.ca/Home.aspx)  
I also suggest looking into donating to your local clothing bank, or volunteering at your local shelter if you can and want to.  
(What is this? a call to action on gay fic? idk man, this is life, now, i guess)


	24. “What have I ever done to you?”

Foggy is provoking him. He has to be doing it on purpose. There's no other reason he'd be fawning over the "cute" barista they just saw while Matt's sitting right here, in the home that they share together.

"What have I ever done to you?" Matt silently asks God. Then he remembers everything he gets up to that's less than Christianly and remembers. God saw that. Still, Matt's annoyed.

"She showed me more pictures of her cats the other day, Matty! Cats!"

"Are you infatuated with her?" Matt snaps.

Foggy wilts in an instant, hurt by the accusation. "I would never cheat on you."

"That wasn't the question."

"No, I am not infatuated with her."

"But you sound so excited whenever she's around. And I heard you give her your number! I know you've been texting," Matt tells him. "Foggy, you don't have to lie! We can work through anything, just please don't lie to me!"

"Matt, wait, I think you've got it wrong," he waves in the air as if to dispel a thought. Suddenly he grabs for Matt's hand and places it on his chest. "I'm going to talk very slowly and honestly so you get this.

"Her cat just had a litter of kittens and she's been offering them to people. I've been watching them grow, because I know you don't like the idea of cat piss and a litter box at home. She and I are friends, but we don't really talk about our personal lives, and she very much knows I'm completely gone for you. Am I lying?"

Matt frowns. "No."

"Are we good?" Foggy asks, anxious.

"I guess," Matt sighs wearily. "Just let me know these things, okay?"

"Alright. That was my bad. I'm sorry, it was a little shady, but I genuinely didn't mean to go behind your back."

"If you're feeling the nurturing instinct, though, maybe we should be considering kids soon," Matt suggests quietly.

"Marry me first, Murdock, or my mother is going to have it with me."

"Alright."

"Great." Foggy takes a sip of his coffee and goes back to his laptop, probably looking at more kittens. Then he shoots up in realization. "Wait, did we just get engaged?"


	25. “What are you doing here?”

Matt is slowly realizing that despite their mutual efforts, Foggy has been landing himself in more and more hot water as of late, and will likely continue to do so. It's inevitable. Both being a resident of New York and being engaged to one of those superhero types really add up. Perhaps what's the worst aspect of it is all the heroism that starts to rub off and nestle inside Foggy's pores. Osmosis of the soul.

Still, Matt always finds himself surprised to find the familiar heartbeat amidst a crowd of civilians, running the exact opposite way one should when confronted with danger.

It's a small cession, but at least Foggy's taken to carrying a blunt weapon in his satchel for when things get rough. Matt maps out the unfolding of a sturdy steel staff, a gift from Samuel. It doesn't do much to lessen Matt's worry as he catapults himself towards Foggy in his favorite red suit.

"What are you doing here?" Matt hisses, tapping Foggy's knees with his cane to adjust his stance. They'd practiced this. Foggy isn't a fighter, but he can be precise and calculated when he needs to be, but he has to focus on it.

"Same thing you are, dumbass!" Foggy tells him, lazily batting at his partner's chest with his weapon.

"The hostages are upstairs, you can get them out. There are five guys, at least three of them are armed. Stay behind me."

They get into position and Foggy steels with resolve.

"Keep your elbows up," Matt instructs as he swings a door open and starts with his frankly excessive acrobatics.

Foggy manages to knock one of them out. Matt is a little proud, but also knows he shouldn't be enabling this behaviour. It's dangerous. (And no, the irony is not lost on him.)

Foggy's already cutting up the hostages' restraints with a utility knife and escorting them downstairs. He guards them closely.

"There are a few more in the basement. I'll take care of them. You just make sure everyone makes it out safe," Matt tells him.

"How many is 'a few,' exactly?"

"... Less than twenty."

"More than ten?" A hesitant nod. "Then I'm coming with you."

"No! You're not even wearing body armor."

Foggy halts for a cerebral second and grabs Matt by the face to kiss him. "Good luck, then, Daredevil."

Matt stands in a bit of a daze as the crowd leaves, murmuring to themselves about what they had just seen. Wait 'til the press hears about this one.

Matt shakes himself out of it and heads down the stairs with a spring in his step.


	26. “When are you going to realise I don’t care?

Let's set the scene at a coffee shop. It's a five minute walk from their apartment. It has the best French-inspired pastries and the coffee has a heavy, full-bodied aroma. The signs are all done in chalk and they change weekly. Matthew and Franklin are sitting under an umbrella outside where they can appreciate the sun in short sleeve shirts and casual slacks.

"Okay, so there's a picture of you in all your full-suited glory. You're brooding on top of a church. Is this a candid, Matt? Is this what you do when you come home at ass o'clock in the morning?"

"Well, I don't pose for the cameras," Matt smirks. He hopes he looks hot.

"How byronic of you. Anyways, and then it's a picture of me, it's the shitty headshot from three years ago when the photographer thought she could use concealer on my eye bags and I look like a ghost. All of my chins look awful, but my bowtie is exquisite. It's the one with little cacti on it."

"I bet you look sexy," Matt assures.

"Not what I was going for when I took it, but thanks, buddy."

"What does the article say?" Matt gestures back to the newspaper in front of them.

Foggy groans. "It reads like a gossip piece about how we're dating-"

"But we're engaged!"

"And there are several eyewitness reports of us hanging out together while you're out. It's all like, 'and they were allegedly seen together last week, taking a stroll in the moonlight'."

"Is it talking about the night you carried me home because I fractured my tibia?"

"These people need to get a life," Foggy concludes, letting the newspaper fall, lifeless, onto the table between them.

It concerns Matt, because being so flippant with his identity really does inconvenience Foggy. "Does it bother you much? Being in the public eye?" Matt reaches for his hand and laces their fingers together.

Just then, a gaggle of teenagers walks up to them.

"Hey, sorry to ask, but aren't you dating Daredevil?" One of them addresses to Foggy.

"I plead the fifth," Foggy refutes automatically.

"What's that?" The teen quirks.

"I won't confirm or deny anything. Anyways, aren't you kids supposed to be in school?" Foggy falters. He's blushing profusely at having been cornered by a bunch of children.

"So you are!" a second teen accuses with teasing surety. "Are you cheating on Daredevil with this old guy?" Matt makes a noise in protest. "Also, it's summer break, _sir_."

"Okay, first of all, I would not cheat on anyone, and certainly not Daredevil. And two, this guy is as old as I am."

"Well, I never said  _ you  _ weren't old as well."

"Why am I being bullied by children today?" Foggy frowns.

The teens laugh, not mean or derisive, but definitely a little mischievous and far too knowing.

"Sorry sir," another one says.

"Nelson. My name is Foggy Nelson." He begrudgingly hands them a business card and the teens trip over themselves to get a look at it.  "Alright, run along, children. You know, it's not polite to come up to people while they're clearly engrossed," Foggy tells them, but affection makes it into his voice anyway.

"Sorry, Mr. Nelson, sir," the last one reiterates. "We won't bother you again."

They saunter away, in awe that they've just met a minor celebrity. Matt hears them try to divvy up the business card without ruining it.

"I can't believe we met Daredevil's boyfriend!" one of them exclaims. "We should have asked for a picture."

"I can't believe Daredevil's actually gay!"

"Why can't a superhero be gay?" Matt hears as the teens make their way across the street.

"Hey," Matt starts, turning to Foggy. "Sorry about all that. I know you didn't sign up for this kind of public speculation." Foggy holds his hand again.

"Matt, when are you going to realize I don't care? None of it matters to me. Public speculation, private speculation, weird conspiracy theories on internet forums. They can do whatever they want. It's more than enough that we're together."

Matt understands. "I see. You're going to let the fame get to your head, aren't you?"

Foggy scoffs, breaking away from the tender moment. "You're one to talk, Mr. Ego."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes a group of teenagers is called a gaggle


	27. “Where did that cat come from?”

Matt had intended for it to be a surprise, but clearly, that's not going to work. The kitten zips around the floor happily as it tears up everything it can find. This was a bad idea. Too bad Matt's already attached.

The door unlocks and Foggy walks in with a large bag of groceries. He sets it down calmly on the counter and puts everything away despite the excited kitten crowding his socked feet.

"Where did that cat come from?" Foggy asks finally.

Matt, an exhausted heap on the ground, groans. "The shelter. I heard your barista friend-"

"You know her name is Ingrid-"

"Finally found homes for the whole litter, but I figured we could probably have an addition to the family."

"And you're going to be okay with a pet?" Foggy gathers up the cat and growls at her playfully before smooshing their faces together. It's adorable and Matt feels so, so warm.

"I figure there are things to get used to if I'm going to have to take care of a child, eventually."

And there's the fact that Matt had been rigorously researching cat care. And he had spent the last few weeks going to shelters, making friends with the furry creatures there. He could probably file his volunteer hours,if he wanted.

He can practically feel Foggy falling in love with the kitten even as he watches her. "Alright. We'll keep her. But we're going to discuss life changes like this together in the future, right?"

"Alright, I will work on my communication," Matt agrees to the terms. He knows it can be an issue. He does have a tendency to do first and explain later.

"Doe she have a name?" Foggy asks, putting her gently on the ground between the men and picking up a small mouse on a string.

"Not yet. Anything but, like, Patricia or Felicia."

"Alright. What about Ginger?"

"Because she's an orange tabby? Isn't that a little basic?"

"No, because she's light on her feet and sassy like Ginger Rogers, obviously."

"Obviously," agrees Matt.


	28. “Why are you up so early?”

Their child cries from the next room over, already a toddler and anxious from the recent change in environment. It wasn't that long ago she was at the orphanage. It's just past 3am. And everyone should be sleeping.

"Ugh, why are you up so early?" Foggy mutters to himself, heading across the hall. Matt's already in Cheyenne Margaret Murdock's room, where he fell asleep on the floor, but he definitely isn't up for much movement.

Foggy walks in and collapses at the foot of the bed. "What's wrong, Cece, darling?"

"Monster," she tells them. "There's a monster in here." Her Rs and Ws are a little soft, but she's speaking so well that there's no doubt she's Foggy's.

"Do you want daddy to scare them off?" Foggy asks, swiveling his head around in search of Matt's mask on the messy floor.

"No," she says, shuffling closer to Foggy.

"Do you want to sleep in our room?"

"Yeah." Foggy picks her up and starts heading back.

Foggy wakes Matt up by poking his face with his toes and leads them both to the bedroom.

The child nestles between the two larger, tired bodies and falls almost immediately asleep.

Then the cat starts to yowl.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> domestic dads


	29. “Why can’t they see they’re meant for each other?”

Molly (as their daughter now insists on being called) watches all sorts of interesting shows. She also has very vocal opinions about them.

"And they obviously like each other, dada. But they keep ignoring it because they're idiots!" she tells Foggy over her plate of asparagus and chicken. She stabs her food with real, demonstrable passion.

"Hey, now, that's a mean word," Foggy chides, lightly.

Matt swings in with a knock on their balcony. "Hello, my darling family, what did I miss?" He saunters to the dinner table, taking off his headgear and gloves and shucking them onto the couch.

"The latest drama on _Miraculous: Tales of Ladybug and Cat Noir_."

"Why can't they see they're meant for each other, daddy? Why are people so stupid?"

"That's a mean word, too," Foggy points out. "And to be fair, your daddy and I knew each other for years before we got married."

"But you guys aren't in _love_. You're my dads."

"Who says?" Matt contends. "Foggy and I are very in love."

"But you don't kiss and stuff!" Molly reminds them, astutely.

"We used to," Matt sighs wistfully, walking around to Foggy's seat so he can hug his husband from behind. He receives an elbow to the chest and a peck on the hand.

"We still do," Foggy informs the child.

"Ew. Gross."

"Why's it gross when we do it?" Foggy questions.

"Because you're my dads," she tells them simply.

Matt laughs at that and bends down to kiss Foggy on the lips. Molly shrieks in disgust.

"Matty, go get washed up for dinner," Foggy orders, shaking his head in disapproval and laughing softly.


	30. “What? We were all thinking it.”

Molly gets into Harvard for undergrad, and her parents couldn't be prouder. They throw a little party with all of her friends, and some long-retired (and not-retired) vigilantes also make appearances throughout the night.

Molly and her friends are in the backyard of their two-bedroom-and-a-guestroom suburban dream and the adults are indoors, sharing chatter like they do.

"I can't believe how old we're getting," Matt frowns. "I turn 50 in two months." He takes a swig of his beer while the others nod in agreement.

"I can't believe your daughter isn't traumatized from all the shit she must've seen growing up," Jessica muses. Luke nudges her. "What? We were all thinking it."

"What she means is, 'congratulations on such an accomplished and well-adjusted daughter'," Luke translates.

"She gets it from Foggy," Matt smiles.

"We're all really happy for your love, buddy," Peter says. "But could you please tone it down? We're in the presence of minors." And sure enough, there are a few toddlers waddling about their living room.

"We're empty nesters, now. We can be as gross as we want to be," Foggy defends to the protest of many.

The conversation flows easily. They're all old friends. And Matt likes that there are so many of them still kicking. And that they still seem to tolerate Matt.

Eventually, the back door slides open and Molly walks in. "Hey, dad, my friends and I are thinking we could head to Kim and Lim's for dinner."

"We were going to order pizza," Foggy reminds her gently.

"Yeah, but noodles and kimchi sounds so good right now. Please? And before you answer, take the time to consider that I am a legal adult now."

Foggy turns to Matt, who shrugs and nods.

"Alright, honey, stay safe," Foggy lets her go with a wave of his hand.

She hugs him from the other side of the couch. "Thanks, dad. Tara just reminded us how old we're all getting and we need some warm, noodly sustenance to cope."

She exits, a group of friends in tow, and they make their clamorous way down the street.

"I can't believe she thinks 18 is old," Matt says, awed at his daughter. "You know, when I was her age-"

"Oh, my God, shut up, you geezer," Foggy whines with a punch to Matt's shoulder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you just know Matt and Foggy are the grossest couple.
> 
> [ anyway here's me, taking the time to plug my tumblr in case you wanna say hi.](https://artbymintcookies.tumblr.com/)


End file.
